


By His Will

by Laylah



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asch is an entirely different person behind closed doors, with nobody to watch him show off and his willingness the key to Van's approval. He's quieter, more pliant, his need laid bare, and Van finds his surrender surprisingly compelling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By His Will

"I think that's enough for today," Van says, stepping back and turning his sword through the ritual motion to sheathe it at the end of battle. "You're doing well."

"Of course I am," Asch says, loudly enough for the spectators at the edge of the training ground to hear, and then adds in a low voice meant for Van alone, "Better than him?"

"Of course you are," Van answers just as quietly. He'd say it even if it weren't true.

Asch smiles, brash and confident. "Guess I'll be making God General in no time, huh?" he says, and if it's clumsy politicking to ask Van to commit to that in a public place like this, well, he is young yet. And it's not subtlety that's his strong point in any case.

Van laughs, and claps a hand on Asch's shoulder. "We'll see," he says, for the benefit of the audience. "You certainly have the drive." He lowers his voice to add, "Come to my rooms after you've cleaned up."

Asch nods once, barely, and Van lets him go. "I'll show you I can do it," he says, and remembers at least enough protocol to bow to his master in thanks for the lesson.

It is no secret in Daath that Van favors Asch, though the boy at least has the decency to work hard for the honor. Van has been careful with the public face of their relationship, so that it reflects positively on him as a commander -- the story as most people know it is that he fostered Asch five years ago when the boy had no home, sponsored him for candidacy in the Oracle Knights to give him a future. It's near enough to the truth.

Van returns to his rooms, with training now finished for the day. There's more paperwork he could be doing, as always, requisitions and promotions, procedures and disciplinary actions that wait for his signature to make them final. Brief summary notes in Legretta's precise hand grace the more complex ones. Van glances over them for a moment, then sets the entire stack aside and goes to bathe instead.

He'll want to be appropriately prepared to meet Asch, after all.

The knock at the door comes shortly after he's finished dressing again, in loose linen that has none of the formal stiff layers of his uniform. "Come in," he calls, pleased that Asch has not delayed. It's a promising sign for the rest of the evening.

"Master," Asch says, as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him. His hair is still wet, blood-dark and heavy over his shoulders so his fair skin and green eyes look even more vivid. He also has chosen to dress simply -- for practical reasons, Van presumes, since none of the Order's uniforms are particularly easy to remove.

"Asch," Van says warmly. The boy meets his eyes steadily, but the look has no challenge in it, only attentiveness. "First position," Van says, and watches Asch obey -- his spine straightens, his feet just more than shoulder width apart, his wrists crossed at the small of his back. He tilts his head back slightly when Van comes closer, and his lips part, but otherwise he doesn't move, holding still as he allows Van to claim his mouth.

Beginning this arrangement was a simple matter of common sense -- when Asch started to display a sexual appetite, it seemed the easiest way to keep that from dividing his loyalties was to take charge of it. But the exercise has proved rewarding in more ways than Van expected. Asch is an entirely different person behind closed doors, with nobody to watch him show off and his willingness the key to Van's approval. He's quieter, more pliant, his need laid bare, and Van finds his surrender surprisingly compelling. Here, in this room, it is Van's will that moves them, not law, not custom, not the Score.

He kisses Asch slowly, deeply, letting his hands explore. When he unbuttons Asch's shirt, Asch shivers but doesn't move, doesn't protest. His body is developing along with his skills; already the muscle under Van's hands is less coltish and more solid. He parts his hands just enough for Van to push his shirt off his arms, then crosses his hands obediently again. Van presses palms flat against his ribs, brushes thumbs over his nipples to coax sound from his throat, then reaches up to curl fingers in the braided leather collar he wears beneath his uniform.

"That wasn't a complaint, I hope," Van murmurs as he pulls back.

"Of course not," Asch says breathlessly. His cheeks are flushed already. "Master."

Van nods. "Good," he says. He keeps hold of Asch's collar and reaches down with his other hand to untie the drawstring of Asch's pants. They're loose enough that they slide down with no additional prompting, and he finds Asch's cock already stiffening when he takes it in hand. "How is your control, Asch?"

Asch pushes against his hand for barely two heartbeats before he catches himself and stills to allow Van to set the too-slow pace. "What do you want from me?" he asks. His breathing is shallow and quick, but his shoulders stay relaxed.

"I want you to not hold back," Van says. He can see the rest of this encounter unfolding in his mind's eye, has decided what he wants, what will be. "I want to make you come." He lets go of Asch's collar and slides that arm around Asch's waist instead, curling his hand around Asch's wrists and holding him close.

"Yes, sir," Asch whispers, and closes his eyes. Van leans close enough to bite his shoulder, beside the collar, where his skin tastes both of leather and of juniper from the baths. The tendons of his wrists flex in Van's grip as his hands seek instinctively for something to hold on to, and his whole body grows taut against Van's before he breathes, "Master," and shivers through a first climax.

Van hums. "Very nice," he says. "A good start." He lets go and steps back, looking down at the slick mess on his hand as though he's only now deciding what to do about it.

"Master?" Asch says. He licks his lips, possibly an unconscious gesture, possibly an offer.

"Don't move yet," Van tells him, and walks around to stand behind him. His wrists are reddened where Van held them tight, his skin so fair that it takes barely any rough treatment to make him flush.

Van parts the cheeks of his ass with one hand, and smears his come over the bared pink flesh there. Asch's breath hitches, shoulders tensing in surprise as Van pushes a fingertip into him.

"This is mine, isn't it?" Van asks as he works his way deeper. "A privilege you give no-one else."

"Y-yes," Asch says. He tilts his hips just slightly, like he's trying to invite Van to fill him more completely. "There isn't anybody else that I -- ah."

Van strokes that firm spot inside him. "There isn't anybody else who cares enough about you. Who's worthy of this much trust." He doesn't even have to feign the pride in his voice. Asch has learned so well. "Now I want you to take third position on my bed."

For a moment Asch doesn't move, presumably waiting for a more physical cue. Then he looks back over his shoulder. "Master Van?"

"I'm going to leave my hand right where it is," Van says. "I want you to move."

"You," Asch says, and Van almost thinks perhaps he's pushed far enough that Asch will resist, but then Asch takes a first awkward step, and Van moves with him, keeping him full. "That feels weird."

Van smiles. "I'm sure it does," he says. "But you can handle it, can't you?"

"Of course," Asch says, though the words are more certain than the tone.

"Lead on, then," Van says. He follows close at Asch's heels, feeling the shift of muscle against his hand at every step Asch takes. He does make sure to pick up a gel on their way to bed -- as much as he likes the idea of opening Asch and fucking him with only his own come to slick the way, it's still too much to ask. It's important that Asch want this, that he continue to believe Van wants only the best for him.

So as Asch spreads himself out across the bed -- knees parted, weight on his forearms, his head down -- Van splits the soft outer casing of the gel to squeeze cool fluid onto his fingers and the boy's ass. He works the gel into Asch steadily, each stroke a little slicker than the one before, until he can add a second finger with almost no resistance.

"Can you get hard again for me, Asch?" he asks, pressing deep and rubbing slowly.

Asch nods, his still-damp hair falling away from the pale skin of his nape. "Didn't even really, ah, have a chance to go soft," he says, and Van smiles. Yet another thing to appreciate about his youth.

"Move with me," Van says. "Show me how much you like it." Without the order -- without permission -- Asch is too well-trained to moan or to push back against his fingers.

With the permission, though, he's more than willing. He rocks his hips, his back arching, encouraging Van to finger him more roughly. The gel soothes and heals any little aches and stings he should be feeling, leaves him easy and wanton. "Master," he says.

Van unties the drawstring of his own trousers, curls his hand around his cock. To be truly thorough in his preparations, he should give Asch a third finger now, let him adjust to that -- but the almost-too-tight stretch when he's only had two feels so good. "Ask respectfully," Van says, though Asch almost never needs the reminder anymore.

"Please fuck me," Asch says. "I'm ready. Please."

The satisfaction of making him, of all people, say that is almost the best part. "Of course," Van says, and shifts so he can replace his fingers with his cock. He leans forward, covering Asch's slender form with his own, and listens for the desperate little stutter to Asch's breathing when Van first pushes past the tight ring of muscle and buries his cock in the boy's ass. Asch shivers under him, and Van presses down, so his weight bears them both down to the mattress.

"You make me proud, Asch," Van murmurs, canting his hips, pressing deeper. "You've gotten so good at this."

"Thank you, Master," Asch says. His fingers dig into the flesh of his biceps, most likely to restrain himself from reaching down to take hold of his cock without permission. Van doesn't tell him it's all right, not yet. This should be a challenge, like everything else in Asch's life -- he should succeed, but it should never come easily, to keep him striving and hungry as the sacred flame he's supposed to be.

So Van takes his time, fucking Asch slow and deep, grinding him down into the mattress until he's making helpless pleading sounds in his throat despite himself. He trembles under Van's weight, spread open and filled, and even now, as accustomed to it as his body can be, he's still so tight, so soft and melting hot.

"Please," he says at last, still holding his position, his voice raw at the edges.

"Please?" Van echoes. "Do you want to come, Asch?" The boy nods, and Van leans harder into the next stroke. "Tell me why."

"Because you're fucking me," Asch says, frustration nearly stifled.

"You could come just like this, couldn't you?" Van asks. "Fucked slow and deep, rubbing your cock against my sheets." Asch chokes down a protest, and Van smiles. "I won't ask that of you today," he says, sliding one hand down Asch's side to reach under him.

Asch moans through clenched teeth when Van takes hold of his cock. "Thank you," he says, and probably doesn't mean to sound quite as desperately grateful as he does. His cock is stiff with need, precome slicking Van's fingers. Muscle clenches rhythmically around Van's cock as Asch strives for release, tensing up.

Van bites down on the nape of his neck, high enough that the bruise would show above his uniform collar if Asch ever put up his hair. Asch croons, high and wordless, his back arching and his ass tightening as he comes.

"You feel so good," Van tells him, rocking faster, enjoying the slow relaxation of muscle and the little shudders of too-intense sensation that wrack Asch now. "I'm proud of you, able to keep up with me."

Asch nods, twisting like he's trying to look back over his shoulder -- like he's seeking kisses for reassurance. He can't reach, with their positions like this, but Van presses wet kisses against his neck, his shoulders, fucking him steadily, still in control right up to the moment when he shudders through climax and fills Asch with his come.

In the aftermath he braces his weight on his elbows but doesn't pull out immediately, keeping Asch full just a little longer. Asch's skin is damp with exertion, and Van feels like he could use another shower himself. "Enjoy yourself?" he asks.

"Yeah," Asch says. He sounds tired, but content, and when Van pulls out carefully he rolls over and reaches out.

Van pulls Asch into his arms, threading fingers through his hair and holding him loosely. "Good," he says. "In a little while, you can come shower with me, before we go join the others for dinner."

Asch nods, burrowing closer, and Van pets his hair. He's become exactly what Van wants him to be.


End file.
